


Let Her Go

by JeffersonStarship



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mark of Cain, Season/Series 10, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeffersonStarship/pseuds/JeffersonStarship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 10.05. Dean runs into someone he used to know while travelling to a hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Her Go

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the majority of this story while listening to "Let Her Go" by Passenger. Though not a necessity, I recommend it. =) Many thanks to Rio1013 for proof-reading.

“WHOOOA WE’RE HALFWAY THERE-ERE!”  
  
Sam startles awake to the music blaring on the Impala’s radio and his brother’s voice yelling the lyrics in a pitch that is just a little too off.  
  
“Dean.”  
  
“WHOA-OOA! LIVING ON A PRAYER-YER!”  
  
“Dean!”  
  
Dean jerks at Sam’s shout.  He looks incredulous as he fumbles for the volume knob and reluctantly twists it counter-clockwise.  “Huh?”  
  
“I was trying to sleep.”  
  
“Oh. I didn’t notice.  Well sorry little brother, but sometimes I just can’t hold back the rhythm.”  
  
Sam grumbles and crosses his arms, laying his head back and closing his eyes.  
  
“But now that you’re up!  I need you to run into this store for me.”  Dean completes the sharp right turn into the convenience store parking lot too fast, nearly launching Sam across the bench seat into his lap.  
  
“What?!  No!  I’m resuming my nap.  I think you can manage a snack run on your own, Dean.”  
  
His older brother looks hurt.  “But I’m the driver!  I need to focus on the mission.”  He gestures in the general area of the dashboard and steering wheel in front of him, then points down at the pedals as an afterthought and shrugs his shoulders, palms in the air.  
  
Sam only sighs.  
  
“I need pie, Sammy,”  Dean pleads.  
  
Sam yawns and then it’s his turn to shrug.  “If you send me in there, I’ll most likely just forget the pie like I always do.”  With that he leans back against the seat once more and his eyes drift closed.  
  
Dean nearly argues, then runs Sam’s words over in his head and knows he’s right.  Sam will forget the pie, either from ignorance or spite.  Oh well, he needs to stretch his legs anyway.  He throws the Impala into park and gets out.  He relishes the cool breeze and sunshine of the early spring afternoon, stretches extravagantly, then makes his way into the small building.  After a quick glance around, he heads straight for the desserts shelf.  
  
“Aha!”  He grabs a slice of cherry pie in a plastic triangle and holds it up triumphantly, inspecting it like a fine gem.  He turns, thinks again, and casually tucks two more slices into the crook of his arm.  On his way up to the counter, he snags two small bags of potato chips and a banana and an apple from next to the register.  They look fresh enough.  Hell, they’re in a friggin’ basket!  Must be straight from the orchard.  There, at least he remembers to pick up something his brother enjoys.  
  
He piles the items onto the counter, smirking proudly to himself.  Dean’s in a great mood.  It’s a beautiful day, the Mark isn’t itching as much as usual, he’s got his pie, and he still has almost a full day’s drive ahead of him until he and Sam need to actually worry about the case they’re heading toward.  
  
“Well you look like you’re having a good day,” says a cheerful voice from behind the counter.  The voice is familiar.  A hand settles on one of the pie slices, waiting for a response.  
  
Dean’s eyes settle on the hand.  His smile slowly falls as his gaze rises, following the hand to the arm, the arm to the shoulder, the shoulder to the graceful, feminine neck, and finally to the clerk’s face where his heart stops.  
  
Lisa’s friendly smile falters as their eyes meet.  
  
Dean considers his options.  He could simply run away--needs to run away--out the door, past the Impala, and as far as he can get without looking back.  Logically, he knows he must not be thinking reasonably.  
  
He’d get away faster if he were driving, not running.  
  
However, his body is not paying attention to his mind, and he freezes.  Unable to move an inch, he’s a deer in headlights.  
  
He breaks eye contact, instead intensely staring at a display of postcards.  
  
 _(Greetings from Battle Creek, MI)_

_(Home of Kellogg!)_  
  
Well fuck.  
  
His dumb ass has been so distracted with the beautiful day and their impending case that the thought never crossed his mind the town in which he was stopping to refuel his stomach.  
  
“Are you okay?”  Lisa’s voice brings him back from his thoughts, but with awareness comes a new wave of panic.  
  
He only glances in her direction, “Sure! Great. You?”  
  
Dean doesn’t have to see her furrowed brow to realize his voice comes out shrill.  He lets out a laugh to ease the moment, which only succeeds in sounding maniacal.  
  
Lisa studies him, then shrugs to herself and begins to ring up the items.  Halfway through, she tries to draw his gaze again, studying him.  “Hey, you look kind of familiar.”  
  
He swallows hard. “Um, no. I mean, I don’t--”  
  
“Wait, I know! Aren’t you the guy that hit my car a few years back?”  
  
“What? No. I don’t think so.”  
  
This is so not good.  
  
Lisa finishes ringing up the rest of the items, a knowing smile now on her beautiful face as she nods, causing her dark curls to dance.  “Yeah, I’m sure of it!  My memories from those days are kind of foggy, but I’d recognize a handsome face like yours anywhere!”  
  
“Oh, right.”  There is no way out of this, short of his first thought of running, but his legs still aren’t working.  He can’t bring himself to meet her brown eyes.  “Lisa, right? Sorry about all that.”  
  
“It’s okay!  I mean, everyone was okay, and that’s all that matters.”  She bags the items as she talks.  “It was the weirdest thing though.  After you left I tried to find out more about you, but you were nowhere to be found.  The insurance company didn’t have any information.  The car was already fixed, and the hospital bills were all taken care of.  Thanks for that, by the way.”  
  
“Yeah well, it was the least I could do.”  Dean already has his wallet out, and he tosses a twenty onto the counter.  He puts a hand on the handles of the plastic grocery bag, then pauses.  He thinks his legs are back in commission, but he has to ask her one last thing.  “How is your son, by the way? Ben, right?”  
  
Lisa’s grin widens to show her perfect teeth.  “Right.  He’s great!  Growing so fast, you know?  Every day he reminds me more and more of his fath-” then she halts, her smile quickly fading into a frown.  Her eyes look confused, as if she can’t understand why she would say such a thing.  
  
Dean feels sick to his stomach.  He is gripping the handles of the bag too tight; his knuckles are white.  “Good.  Well I have to get going--”  
  
“Wait!” Lisa’s hand suddenly darts up to rest on his clenched fist.  “Listen, if you’re going to be in town for a while, maybe we could...”  
  
“No,”  Dean says too sharply.  He tries to soften his voice.  “Sorry, but I’m just passing through.  You won’t see me again.”  
  
The look of hurt on Lisa’s features is too familiar, and Dean wants to throw up.  “Oh, okay then.”  She forces a tight smile, “Well, safe travels! And,” she nods towards the plastic bag where their hands still touched, “enjoy your pie.”  
  
Dean dips his head, pulling his hand quickly from under hers and darting toward the exit.  
   
“Wait!” she shouts again when he’s nearly to the door.  He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns back to her, opening his eyes again.  She is fluttering the twenty in the air.  “This is way too much.”  
  
“Keep it.”  When she starts to object, he grits out a quiet “please” through his teeth, and she stops, looking confused and -dammit- still hurt.  
  
He turns and shoves his way through the exit, the bell chiming gaily above him.  
  
*~*  
  
Sam startles awake once again at the creak of the Impala’s door opening.  Damn, this nap just isn’t meant to be.  It is immediately obvious that something is different when Dean tosses the small bag onto his lap and sits heavily on the seat, slamming the door.  His gaze is straight ahead as he starts the engine, and his posture is rigid.  
  
“Dean?” Sam asks hesitantly.  
  
His brother ignores him, shifting the car into gear and the tires squeal as they make the turn back onto the road, once again too fast.  The muscles in Dean’s jaw are working, and Sam debates whether or not he should push the issue.  Dean’s moods have been erratic lately--more than usual-- and Sam can’t say he blames him.  Maybe he saw something in the store that reminded him of his time as a demon.  Or maybe the Mark was flaring up somehow.  
  
“Are we going to talk about this?”  
  
A stiff shake of Dean’s head is his only reply.  
  
Sam reaches into the grocery bag on his lap, smiling slightly when he sees the ‘fresh’ fruit his brother thought to get him.  He digs past it, grabbing out a container of pie, and holds it out into Dean’s line of vision like a peace offering.  
  
Dean only shakes his head again, his eyes still set on the road ahead.  
  
Sam replaces the pie in the bag and places the bag over his shoulder into the back seat for later.  After a couple more careful glances in Dean’s direction, Sam sighs quietly, then reaches out and turns the radio back up.  Bad Company fills the silence in the cabin of the car, and Dean’s grip on the steering wheel visibly relaxes, but his jaw is still tense.  Sam turns the volume up a bit more to Dean-level, then turns his eyes to the road.  Mirroring his big brother, he settles into yet another mutual silence.  
  



End file.
